he's reciting lines, he's directing calisthenics. she kisses him between words.
she cries, he fidgets in her purple sweater. she looks at him with soulful eyes.
what's wrong, my love? she can only shake her head.
he repeats himself, tipping over the precipice of panicked tears.
i won't fight them, love, i'll do whatever they say.
he falls unreservedly to pieces.
they embrace, they dry, they writhe in the agonious, star-crossed beauty of
their everlasting, controversial love.
then he goes home
and ruins all of it.
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